To the Teachers

Teachers have a huge responsibility that often gets overlooked.They not only teach our children, but they form and shape the little minds which they teach. No one would be where they are today, or who they are today, without the help of the teachers who taught them. It is Teacher Appreciation Week, and I have several teachers to thank. First all of my teachers who put up with me in school deserve medals. I was the one who was always talking to others, always being creative and who was always decorating my papers with extra designs. These teachers had the hard ask of keeping me from being board in class, of keeping me focused and helping me to realize my potential. I was also the one who stood up to the bullies. I was the smallest, so they thought I was an easy target. No so much.

They not only teach our children, but they form and shape the little minds which they teach. No one would be where they are today, or who they are today, without the help of the teachers who taught them. It is Teacher Appreciation Week, and I have several teachers to thank. First all of my teachers who put up with me in school deserve medals. I was the one who was always talking to others, always being creative and who was always decorating my papers with extra designs. These teachers had the hard ask of keeping me from being board in class, of keeping me focused and helping me to realize my potential. I was also the one who stood up to the bullies. I was the smallest, so they thought I was an easy target. No so much.

It is Teacher Appreciation Week, and I have several teachers to thank. First all of my teachers who put up with me in school deserve medals. I was the one who was always talking to others, always being creative and who was always decorating my papers with extra designs. These teachers had the hard ask of keeping me from being board in class, of keeping me focused and helping me to realize my potential. I was also the one who stood up to the bullies. I was the smallest, so they thought I was an easy target. No so much.

My mother told me that if I faught back, if I didn’t draw blood I couldn’t come home. It was a different time then and kids did not get into trouble for fighting back or defending themselves. And at that age, you are sure your parents know everything. I did as I was told. I warned the bullies three times to stop or I would fight back. They usually laughed. But then the three warnings were up and that was it. What do you do with a kid who is being bullied but who warns the bullies three times before doing anything? The teachers had their hands full. My 5^th grade science teacher, Mr. Sanders. Sparked my interest in science and all the mysteries that the world holds. He encouraged children to be curious and was the first person I ever remember hearing say that there were no stupid questions. He did fun classroom experinments and kept all of us guessing. My 7^th grade English teach, Ms. Childs, was next.

My 5^th grade science teacher, Mr. Sanders. Sparked my interest in science and all the mysteries that the world holds. He encouraged children to be curious and was the first person I ever remember hearing say that there were no stupid questions. He did fun classroom experinments and kept all of us guessing. My 7^th grade English teach, Ms. Childs, was next.

She was sweet and encouraged me to write poetry. She would patiently read my juvenile poetry and write encouraging little notes. My Freshman year of Highschool I had a huge crush on her son. I dreamt of being her daughter-in-law, but alas, it was not to be. Once in highschool there were a number of teachers who helped me. My freshman math teacher, Mr. Lee, took pity on me and let me do extra credit assignments because I tried so hard to be good at algebra, but just wasn’t. Same with my sophomore Chemistry teacher. Stoikiometry kicked my tail and he let me come into class early and do extra credit labs to keep my grade up.

Once in highschool there were a number of teachers who helped me. My freshman math teacher, Mr. Lee, took pity on me and let me do extra credit assignments because I tried so hard to be good at algebra, but just wasn’t. Same with my sophomore Chemistry teacher. Stoikiometry kicked my tail and he let me come into class early and do extra credit labs to keep my grade up.

After graduation he said that he understood that some kids just weren’t good at math, but excelled in other areas. He never wanted to punish a child for not being “math minded,” so he would work with them as long as they put forth the effort. My sophomore Social Studies teacher was the first to encourage me to reach higher. He pulled me aside and said that I was too smart for his class level, and that I should apply for advanced classes. He would sponsor me if I did. I was shocked.

My sophomore Social Studies teacher was the first to encourage me to reach higher. He pulled me aside and said that I was too smart for his class level, and that I should apply for advanced classes. He would sponsor me if I did. I was shocked.

I applied and got in. Mrs. Lawrence, my junior Social studies teacher was amazing and fun. She seemed to know everything and made history interesting. We all especially enjoyed the week she showed the movies about the Salem Witch Trails. She made us work hard though and taught us that hard work can also be a lot of fun. My sophomore English teacher was another one who encouraged my writing. She would also take the time to look at all my writings and make comments. As busy as teachers are, I don’t know how, or why, she made the time. But she did. And I loved it. I soaked it all up like a big sponge. My senior English teachers were next – Mrs. Moser and Mrs. Hickox. Oh, they were tough. We had to write essays every week, in addition to our regular work in the class. And a research paper each month that was 10 pages at minimum. They read The Canterbury Tales to us in original Olde English. I had never heard it before and it was beautiful. And then there was having to memorize and perform Shakespeare – and if we got anything wrong, we would fail Senior English and would not be allowed to graduate.

My sophomore English teacher was another one who encouraged my writing. She would also take the time to look at all my writings and make comments. As busy as teachers are, I don’t know how, or why, she made the time. But she did. And I loved it. I soaked it all up like a big sponge. My senior English teachers were next – Mrs. Moser and Mrs. Hickox. Oh, they were tough. We had to write essays every week, in addition to our regular work in the class. And a research paper each month that was 10 pages at minimum. They read The Canterbury Tales to us in original Olde English. I had never heard it before and it was beautiful. And then there was having to memorize and perform Shakespeare – and if we got anything wrong, we would fail Senior English and would not be allowed to graduate.

I have never worked so hard in my life. Mrs. Moser invited me, and some other students, to go on a trip to Canada with her. IT was her personal trip, and she did not have to take any kids at all. But she did. And it was a wonderful experience. It was supposed to be England, but the Gulf war broke out and she was afraid that it wasn’t safe to travel oversees. We had a blast. She was fun and gracious and generous. My best teacher by far was my mother. She is the reason that I am a writer. She read to me as a child and fueled the desire to not only read, but write stories of my own. She taught me how important it was to use my imagination and tell stories. She reviewed all of my writings before they were turned into my teachers. She taught me that no matter what your education level, no matter what you want to do in life, you can accomplish anything if you can speak and write well. She was right. So thank yu to all of my wonderful teachers. I loved all of you.

The Mother’s Day

Anyone familiar with grief and the loss of loved ones will tell you that no matter how far along you are in the process, no matter how much time it has been, there are certain days that may still be hard.

I have come a long way since her death almost two years ago, but still some days are harder than others. Mother’s Day, her birthday, the holidays, can be especially hard. Last Mother’s Day was the first without her and that first one I think is the worst. I am not sure how the second one will be. Last year I celebrated by getting her a card, swimming out into the ocean, releasing the card to let the tide deliver the message. And I know that she got it. It was amazing and beautiful and cathartic and wonderful.

 

For their 50^th anniversary, in November, I got them both a card, and swam out to the ocean again. That time a friend swam out with me so that I would not be alone. And it was beautiful. There are many ways to remember a loved one…from planting trees, to having a nice dinner, to doing charity work. But none of those seem to fit. Maybe I will go out to a lake and deliver a message that way. Maybe release balloons. Maybe I will read her manuscript that she wanted me to finish. Maybe I will look for the signs and find a way to celebrate, to do something new and make a memory in her honor. I will find some way to celebrate her, and her life and our relationship. Our last Mother’s Day was not the best as Mom was sick and very moody. That made it difficult at best. She often got mad at small things and I did not understand why or what was going on. But we loved each other so very much that even her sickness could not break that bond. Grief is universal, and so is losing your parents. Hug them if you still have them around. Tell them you love them. And cherish every day you have together. Make Mother’s Day a true celebration. Make it the best you can so the memories are wonderful.

I am not sure how the second one will be.

 

Hug them if you still have them around. Tell them you love them. And cherish every day you have together. Make Mother’s Day a true celebration. Make it the best you can so the memories are wonderful.

Safe and Sound

The older I get the more I realize how important it’s to love where you live. Your home should be your sanctuary, it should be your safe place to go to in the world. It should be protected and sacred, a place of love and convalescence. But I have also come to realize how important loving your neighborhood is as

well.

In this hurried day and age, it is important to know who your neighbors are. Back in the day, people not only knew their neighbors, but where actually friends. These days that is not always the case, which is a shame.

I have always loved meeting my neighbors, knowing them and being friends. Talking when both outside and doing yard work, stopping to say hello when out jogging.That is one of the many reasons why I love the area I live now, people make it a point to get to know you.

When younger I wasn’t so sure about those “nosy neighbors” but now I love it. Those are the people who keep everyone safe. They know everyone’s car, everyone’s schedule and who should be where and when. That means that these people are looking out for me, and everyone else around as well. They let others know when a strange car is lurking around, or a strange person knocking on doors, or if they notice an older man lurking around teenage girls.

They know everyone’s car, everyone’s schedule and who should be where and when. That means that these people are looking out for me, and everyone else around as well.

And they talk about it, so everyone knows if they need to keep an eye out too. We know who has a lost pet or has a crazy ex-husband, who is elderly or has elderly living with them or when kids should be home from school.

I am a single woman who lives alone, in one of the largest sex trafficking cities in the world. In this day and age, it takes a village to make sure that we are safe, especially children, especially girls.

Between trafficking, perverts and other criminals, we must watch out for each other now more than ever. We must know who our neighbors are, talk to them and make sure they know us too.

That is one of the many reasons I love where I live. My neighbors know who I am and who the regulars are in my life. I love the ladies who watch over all of us. They notice everything that goes on in the area. I like it because it keeps that trash out too. People who are doing what they shouldn’t don’t last very long before they get too uncomfortable.

It makes me feel safe to know that we are a community, watching out for each other. A community looking after our own

.